


All Locked Up

by sconesandtextingandmurder



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bikes, College AU, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 22:11:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8464897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconesandtextingandmurder/pseuds/sconesandtextingandmurder
Summary: For manateeparty who was having a (surprisingly similar) bad day.)
Originally posted on tumblr here





	

**Author's Note:**

> For [manateeparty](http://manateeparty.tumblr.com) who was having a (surprisingly similar) bad day.)
> 
> Originally posted on tumblr [here](http://scones-and-texting-and-murder.tumblr.com/post/130095214971/for-manateeparty-who-is-having-a-surprisingly)

Dean pulled the apartment door shut behind him, automatically checking that it was locked.  Positioning his backpack securely on both shoulders, he hurried down two flights of steps then crossed the walkway to the bike rack.  He’d hit the snooze on his alarm one too many times this morning, but if he pedaled fast enough, he’d get to his first class on time.  

Today was his long day, with classes spread out all over the (thankfully flat) campus and, even with his bike, he’d be lucky to make it everywhere on time. He unlocked his bike, stashing the lock in his backpack, before wheeling it away from the rack.

After just a few inches, the bike lurched to a stop.

Dean swore and pushed it forward again, checking to see if his pedal was tangled up in the bike next to his. With closer inspection, the problem became clear: the bike next to his was secured not to the rack, but directly to Dean’s bike.

He yanked at it, but there was no way that state of the art lock was coming off. And now, there was also no way he was going to be on time.  Muttering, he re-attached his lock then kicked the tire of the offending bike before spinning around to sprint to class.

***

The day had gone from bad to worse, collapsing like a row of shitty dominos.  Flustered by being late for his first class, he’d probably tanked the quiz and then he’d had to leave it early to get to the next one (nope, still late).   He’d been planning to bike home for lunch, but without the bike, he was stuck eating on campus, scrounging together coins from the bottom of his backpack for the vending machines. Oh, and if the blister on his right heel was any indication, apparently his new shoes rubbed.

With the apartment building in sight, he began to relax a little.  This day couldn’t end quickly enough and he consoled himself with the thought of his comfy couch and the beer in his fridge.  From the sidewalk he could see something fluttering on his bike.  A piece of paper, taped to the seat.  No doubt an apology.  

Instead scrawled in big black letters, the note simply read:  
NOT COOL  
Apt. 22

And, oh look. His bike was still being held hostage.

Ripping off the note, Dean stomped up one flight of stairs, following the hall to the left until he came to the correct door.  He banged on it, not letting up even when he heard footsteps approaching it from the other side.  

The door flew open and a man Dean’s age stood there.  He was dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, looking somehow a hundred times more put together than Dean in his jeans and t-shirt.  Well, other than his mess of dark hair, which looked like it was waging a valiant battle to leave his head all together.

The man looked startled, and his blue eyes widened, even as his mouth fell open, but he quickly recovered from the surprise when Dean held up the note.

“What the fuck, dude?”

The man blinked and folded his arms in front of his chest. “You locked your bike to mine and now you’re mad?”

Dean managed to sputter an outraged combination of “That’s not what happened” and “I did not” that came out as “I didn’t what happened.”

The man squinted as he tried to make sense of that and Dean gave up and simply pulled him out the door by the (rather firm) arm.

Thundering back down the stairs, Dean led him to the bikes, pointing exaggeratedly to each aspect of the problem in turn. “My bike. Your bike. Your lock.”

“That’s not my lock.”

Dean sighed and steered him to the front of the rack. “Well, here you see my lock.  It’s the one that goes directly from MY BIKE TO THE RACK.”

Just then another man approached them.  He was shorter, with wavy sandy hair and a hell of a smirk.

“Oh, hey, Cas,” he said with feigned casualness.

Cas nodded at him without looking away from the conjoined bikes. “Gabriel.”

Gabriel held out his hand. “I’m Gabe, Cas is my roommate and you are?”

“Dean,” said Dean, watching as Cas tugged unsuccessfully on the bike lock.

“Look, Cas,” Gabe said cheerfully. “The nice man with the bike is named Dean.”

Cas kept his focus on the bikes, but if Dean wasn’t mistaken, he flushed a little bit.  It was a good look on him.

“So, apparently I forgot to mention that I borrowed your bike, Cas.”  Gabe’s attempt at regret was sorely lacking in sincerity. “And since I somehow broke your lock while ‘borrowing’ it, ( _Honestly_ , Dean thought, _the only thing missing were the air quotes._ ) I got you a new one. “

Gabe beamed, obviously pleased with himself.  

Cas finally met Dean’s eye, looking so mortified that Dean had to bite back a smile.

“I would like to apologize for any inconvenience.  Apparently, my roommate is not acquainted with proper bike lock usage.”

Before Dean could wave it off as an honest misunderstanding, Gabe spoke up.  “I wouldn’t say that. “

Cas raised an eyebrow. “No?”

Gabe fished the key out of his pocket and tossed it into the air.  Reflexively, Dean snagged it.

“I’d say it worked just right.  Because now you’ve met the guy you’ve been pathetically staring at from afar.”  Gabe walked away, whistling.  

Dean looked at Cas with raised eyebrows, waiting for the denial.

“I wouldn’t say _pathetically_ …” Cas began carefully.

Dean laughed and handed him the key.  


End file.
